


utter your prayer unto me

by Minato Shi (RaiWalk)



Series: (in)sanity has your name [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Oops, actual cinnamon roll gaara, and with suna comes..., holy shit rin, i cannot keep to one genre, kakashi the clueless missing nin, mentions of actual mental illness, obito needs to have common sense pounded into him, obito the angry nutcase, oh look is this me, poor kakashi gets the short end of the stick, rin is always giggling (evilly) in the background, rin the jedi ghost, something pretentious like slow burn, that moment i dig through medical journals to find info on actual madness, there's suna, where did this thing that is not kakaobi come from, zetsu the unhelpful actual villain, zetsu you motherfucker stop ruining my ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:54:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8041525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaiWalk/pseuds/Minato%20Shi
Summary: This is a mad world, he knows. A mad, broken world, and he will remake it, this he swears. He can't see her before he fixes everything.
In the mean time, he tries to figure out a puzzle. A mind doesn't unravel out of nowhere. He's just not sure whether he wants to fix it or twist it further, this puzzle of his.





	1. i am only here

_He has a recurring dream._

_In it, he is warped and twisted into something very much inhuman. A reflection of how he feels when he’s awake. The darkness and brittleness and twisting, seething feelings under his skin_ become _his skin. It itches all over, and ichor runs ever swiftly. He creaks with every movement, every breath._

_Somewhere in the dream, lays a red beacon. He had ignored it at first, as much as he could. He didn’t want to get closer to it. He didn’t want to see it. In the end, his curiosity won out, so he moves in its direction. His steps thump loudly in the silence, and he wonders what he'll find. An explosive? A gem? Something precious. It's neither._

_Something vaguely shaped, somewhere in between animal and human. It’s hauntingly pretty, smooth surface and soft curving lines. Delicately shaped, despite the try at grotesque from its halfway transformation. It’s made of glass, with lightning trapped inside, the glow flickering every-which-way. It oscillates between blue and purple, the streaks of violent light curling around each other. He feels he should recognise it. Should know it, like he knows his own hands._

_He… doesn’t know._

_Every fiber of his being screams **Mine** in increasingly loud voices. It’s _ his _._

_The beacon is there. Red, glowing, deeply alluring, and he wonders if he can take it. The figurine is already his, the beacon... He wants it. He_ wants _it._ **Wants** it.

_So he tries to take it. Reaches cautiously. Nothing moves. His fingers are pointed enough that he can claw it out, but the moment he separates it from the figurine that feels more like flesh than glass, the beacon sputters out and disappears._

_So does the lightning._

_He shrieks._

* * *

Obito had spent a year being trained by Madara and Zetsu, putting out cautious feelers for allies and learning about Madara from the man himself so he could pass as him. It’s not exactly a big problem to pass as Madara when anyone who might have sussed him out as an impostor is long dead, but the man taught him anyway. It had been a gruesome year, of waking, pushing himself, and retiring so worn out that his sleep was senseless. He didn’t dwell. He didn’t think beyond a goal. There was no need to, nothing besides training his mind, his senses, his body.

There are no moments for him to replay the soft sound of Rin hitting the ground or the sick squelch of enemy bodies under his bare hands. For all that Madara treated him as an extension of himself, Obito was still a child-- an untried fighter. Before, he hesitated. He spared. He thought of guilt and families waiting for news.

No longer. There is very little in the world that moves him, now, beyond seeing Rin again, and being able to laugh with her, to talk to her. On some level, he is ashamed he never took a chance to hold her hand beyond her treatment of his injuries.

Now, he can take no chances. He mows down anyone who entertains the faintest idea of stopping him. Disappears with those that would throw his plans in disarray. Cold-blooded murder, he knows, but he doesn’t care.

At the end of all this, is Rin.

Still, Madara had imparted an interesting lesson: The _sharingan_ ’s control of Tailed Beasts. He studied its theory, tried and tested it quickly and fleetingly. It works.

But he can’t keep absolute control of more than one for extended periods of time, and this is grating. He could have hunted them down quickly and controlled them into returning to the statue, but nothing is ever simple. Nothing in the world is ~~good~~ easy.

Regardless, Madara leaves him after he has a good grasp of that. Zetsu will remain to train him in the rest. And Obito begins gathering information on the strongest _shinobi_ of the elemental countries. He makes notes on locations of the Tailed Beasts.

He also has little patience for this world that he can barely interact with, sometimes being forced to concentrate, lest he find himself halfway into the ground before even realising it. This unreal world that rejects his existence every other day.

With how busy he is, he misses the first few signs. The first few whispers. So deeply mired in his plans, already lining up the strongest of the continent and devising plans on how to manipulate them to his cause, he sets aside the murmurs that begin sprouting barely one and a half year after Rin’s death.

Only when he begins approaching Konoha to find the Nine-Tailed Fox, and even then he almost dismisses the two jounin gossiping, is that he hears it clearly--

Kakashi Hatake snapped, unsuccessfully attacked the Hokage and fled the village.

Obito is stumped. He’d sneaked into Konoha a couple of times before, out of misplaced nostalgia, and found the boy in front of the memorial stone, or in front of Rin’s grave (no matter what affront that truly was to her) and he’d. He’d never seemed prone to snapping?

Zetsu has nothing to offer on the matter, and Obito has long understood this world is to be discarded.

But.

There is something wrong with this scenario. Something nags at the hairs on the back of his neck.

It’s not possible that Kakashi, who spoke about rules and authority, would simply up and leave just like that. Something else had to have happened. But what would make uptight _Kakashi_ let go of all the bloody rules he held so dear to his chest? The little shit always went on and on about them, and somehow followed _all of them_ to the letter.

Truly, the first thing he thinks is an outside force, mind control or blackmail, and neither option sounds appealing. Mind control implies someone was strong enough to subdue Kakashi, strongest of their generation and probably well-versed in several _genjutsu_ and enough mind techniques to at least be aware. Blackmail implies whoever found something to hold over Kakashi, who follows rules to the letter, has the _Yondaime Hokage_ as his teacher and would find something to turn this blackmail on its head against the aggressor.

Everything points to a powerful presence dipping its hand where it doesn’t belong. Obito might be angry at this ~~hell~~ world, but he _does_ want Kakashi to be inside the perfect world. (He simply can’t decide if he wants Kakashi beside him or under his boot.)

He uses Kamui to enter the registration offices, sneers silently at the inattentive guards, and riffles through files until he finds Kakashi’s. Everything is perfectly normal, from physical to psych evaluations, list of abilities, everything…

...and on the last page, stapled to the rest and scrawled in Minato’s familiar handwriting, a report about the attack.

Obito reads it. Then reads it again.

_….seemingly out of control_ , Minato’s handwriting shakily describes, _trying to force my hand into obeying his wishes. Clearly in the midst of psychosis. Maybe schizophrenia. Refrained from outright killing our nin. For the hunting missions: try for incapacitation. Treatment might be effective, pending..._

He closes the file, frowning. Kakashi has gone mad. The words spiral across his mind, settle deep in his gut, and something that feels like nausea seeps from them. He hasn’t felt truly nauseous since Rin.

Obito replaces the file in its shelf, leaving via Kamui once again. He needs more information, and if that was Minato’s final report, he won’t find anything else in Konoha. He finds Zetsu and gives him two orders: find a Konoha bingo book, and keep an ear open for news on Kakashi. After all, he needs to keep an eye on his other eye, and since Kakashi is the source of his nausea, it stands to reason that he will have more information. He’s also important to the plan, if not in these stages.

Until new information comes, he pushes it out of his mind. Mostly.

_Psychosis_ , he thinks absently, _schizophrenia. What do the two have in common?_

* * *

Akatsuki is his. They move how he wants, if they don’t dance to his exact tune. Now it’s a matter of finding everything and assembling. He can’t even bring himself to feel pity as he dooms Nagato to a half-existence. Well, a quarter of existence, since Yahiko’s death had taken its toll, as well. Nagato seems rather unconcerned about willingly crippling himself, and Obito is not going to reject good fortune. It is irreversible, except for when they will all be launched into the perfect world.

He has abandoned the Mountain’s Graveyard, left it as a last resort in case he needs to hide, accessing it only through Kamui. Zetsu is generally a silent companion, offering words of advice when Obito asks. For now, he is still laying low to find information. Akatsuki will take care of recruiting powerful nin, and Obito will drop by now and then to make sure they can fight Tailed Beasts with proficiency.

He’s in Hot Water Village when these particular whispers finally make their way to him.

“Kiri has set a bounty on his head, now,” a man with shinobi headband mutters to his companion, “They say he’s caused widespread destruction and killed thirty with a tantō.”

Obito blinks and carefully sets back the kunai he had been inspecting. There is something eerily familiar about thirty killed by a tantō. Widespread destruction doesn’t fit with the rest.

“Did he really dodge one of the Swordsmen?” the other man hisses back, and when the first nods, “How? What kind of _lunatic_ pulls this kind of stunt _in the middle of the Bloody Mist?_ ”

The word hits Obito hard, and he frowns down at the variety of kunai on display. Lunatic. Mad. Crazy. Psychotic.

He leaves the shop and finds Zetsu.

“We’re going to Kiri.”

* * *

Zetsu wants him to perfect Kamui. Wants him to move quickly and return even faster.

Obito scoffs, but goes along with it. Sometimes, in long travels, he can picture Kakashi and Rin by his side, like the long missions they’d take out of Konoha. Sometimes, it’s solace while he waits and plots.

Sometimes it’s an unbearable reminder of what he’s missing, and if he can’t move his plans along in those moments, he feels like going crazy and doing something regrettable. He doesn’t mind destroying a few miles of land, but he can’t jeopardize the plan.

They reach Kiri in two days, and Obito leaves him behind to slither through shadows.

The people, shinobi and civilian alike, are nervous. There is a tension in the air that makes his skin prickle. It doesn’t take him long to find out why.

Close to the center of the village, right in front of the Mizukage’s Tower, is a crater. A honest to Sage _crater_.

And _no one_ is saying a word about it.

If he wasn’t suspicious before, he definetly is now. Kiri has never been particularly stable, always far too bloodthirsty and mired in civil conflict. Civilians tend to keep to themselves, to their work, but _shinobi_ are a strange breed, and will always crave excitement in most unusual ways.

Konoha has managed to keep its more bloodthirsty _jounin_ entertained with the most bizarre pastimes, but throw them in the battlefield… there is a reason why Konoha is the biggest and strongest ninja village. It is also just about the only village where teams are prized above individual shinobi, where risks are mitigated by collective strength. (Sometimes, when he is deep in darkness and close to uneasy sleep, Obito laughs at these thoughts. Konoha prizes strength of killers like all others.)

Kiri, on the other hand, doesn’t try to pretend that the shinobi force is anything but killers. They are encouraged to kill in all sorts of forms, praised when entertaining themselves with bloody, messy ways of death. There is only approval in torture and murdering. Little else will net as much prestige in the Bloody Mist than being the strongest serial killer.

Obito _hates_ this place. Hates it in ways that most people can’t take, the black, ugly feeling bubbling in his throat and feeling like acid. He hates the Mizukage’s Tower, he hates the mist that meanders around buildings, hates the shinobi that waltz unconcerned on the streets, hates the civilians that smile thinly at their customers. Hates them all, because they are, all of them, Rin’s killers. In his perfect world, there will be no Village of the Bloody Mist.

He circles the crater. Made by a skilled hand, no doubt, but more raw power than technique. A blunt wave of chakra. Unrefined, even. Maybe not skilled, but far too much power?

“What’re you looking at it for?” a gruff voice asks, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s asking him.

“Aaaah… I was just wondering what would cause such a big hole,” he chirps, settling back into a far happier tone than he feels, and turns to meet the gaze of a woman with dark hair and a pair of swords strapped to her waist, “Sword-san, did something go boom?”

“You could say that,” she eyed him warily, “Whatever brought you here to look at this?”

“Just passing by,” Obito answers breezily, trying not to let his irritation bleed into his chakra, “But everyone’s so twitchy, and no one’s saying anything! I feel ignored.”

“And you know nothing about this?” She circles him to peer into the crater, but Obito can feel how her attention doesn’t waver from him. Ultimately useless, but she doesn’t know that.

“Not at all, Sword-san! But it is a pretty hole.”

“I’m sure,” the absolute deadpan stare she gives him makes his breathe roil in something close to anger. This woman is one of _them_. He hasn’t forgotten. She hesitates, “If you come across a… _boy_ … in a white _yukata_ , run. He’s completely insane.”

“...there are a lot of people that use white _yukata_ , Sword-san.”

She snorts. “You’ll know what I mean when you see him,” she looks around, bites her lip in consideration. Obito has to stop himself from taking a step back when she levels him with a serious gaze, “This kid killed thirty shinobi with a pair of _kaiken_ , brat. And when one of the Swordsmen came to see what the fuss was all about, he not only irritated Jūzō-sama, but dodged his sword strikes. Be careful, brat, don’t go looking for this kid.”

Obito… Obito is _floored_. He watches her nod at him before quickly leaving. This woman, this mist ninja has turned to him and… and… what? Showed _concern_? He could laugh at the absurdity. There’s no one salvageable in this whole goddamn village, and it was a _mistake_ to step here. This world is trying to suck him in again, and Obito _will not have it_.

He turns around and disappears.

* * *

_In his recurring dream, he devours the figurine._

_For fifteen nights straight, he swallows_ _glass and licks lightning from his lips, and it is chewy and coppery._


	2. only real

Kakashi falls face first on the bed of the inn, and groans.

Rin flops beside him with a laugh, closing her eyes to the ceiling and opening her arms. One of them falls over his back. Kakashi drags his face to the side to glare weakly at her. She’s a slave driver, pushing him to run even more than he’s ever tried to. All because she can’t feel her muscles cramping anymore. So unfair. He huffs.

“Where to, next?” he asks her grudgingly, rubbing his face and carding fingers through his wet hair.

“Who knows,” she hums. Kakashi sighs with all the aggravation he can muster, rolling from under her arm and moving to the cracked mirror.

“They’re growing,” he observes mildly as one line twists around his wrist like a snake, sometimes resembling writing, sometimes resembling shackles. His whole torso is covered in them, and he remembers his legs should be, too. They are always moving, and it is good not only that he wears a mask, but that ANBU clothing covers most of his body. It is somewhat disconcerting, the feeling of wet ink sliding across his skin-- or perhaps under it, since none of his clothes come away stained.

“They’re supposed to,” Rin says, and when did she make her way to the mirror? Then again, she’s a ghost, the usual rules don’t apply to her. It’s still a situation that makes him uncomfortably doubt his own mind. At least Rin had given him an idea that she might not simply be a figment of his own insane imagination, if giving him ‘enemy’ information he wasn’t privy to could constitute as proof.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what they’re for?” he begins wrapping his ankles and adjusting the special mesh characteristic of ANBU, imbued with a small dose of chakra to make it tougher than simple civilian clothing. He’d preferred to take this one for sheer durability, instead of anything he used to wear, and it hadn’t disappointed him. It survived being nicked by numerous swords of the Mist.

“You’ll know,” she giggles, helping him pull on the gloves and then the short white yukata. She ties it tightly, with a knot that won’t come loose as he does his acrobatics, “It will be kinda obvious~”

“I still think,” Kakashi says, pulling his mask up and tying the marred headband around his neck, letting his hair fall to the side and over his red eye, “That my sanity has gone to hell. You don’t help by not telling things, just ordering me around.”

“Well, you wouldn’t believe half of it,” Rin rests her chin on her hands, grinning as she sits mid air. Kakashi squints at her. “And those lines take more power than you think. Even if I told you, they wouldn’t let you keep the words.”

The wording is strange, but since the moment Rin bent over him in the hospital bed, she’s talked like that. Three days asleep, and he opened his eyes to meet her brown ones filled with mischief and a finger over her lips warning him to be quiet. He hadn’t questioned it then, had been quite content to follow her lead and just _memorize_ her… and then he’d gotten half-way home, and blithely asked if she’d crawled out of her grave and healed her chest or if she’d go through walls.

Rin had laughed in his face.

He hadn’t even found it in himself to be indignant, cracking a smile under his mask at her joyous countenance.

He doesn’t want it all to be an illusion by an enemy, and he dearly wishes he could keep this idyllic traveling they’ve been doing…

“What’s an asura, anyway?” he asks as he checks his meager pack, making sure everything he’d taken was still there, “Please tell me we didn’t go across an ocean twice and through four countries just because you wanted to play a prank.”

Rin squawks at him. “I would never! And it’s _Asura_ , as in, a _name_ , you jerk. Have some respect,” and how many times was it that she’d made this same pose, hands on her hips and leaning forward as she scolded him? His heart crumples in on itself, just a bit. It’s been a while.

“So, what, am I turning into some sort of prophet, now?” Rolling his eyes, “Hear me! Hear all! Asura is coming, and he will judge you for your sins-- _gck_ ”

_She stuffed a sock in his mouth, what._

Kakashi spits it out, mildly disturbed. “Where did you even find this?”

Her innocent smile is disturbing enough. “We should make our way to the border of Cloud. It’s kinda unstable right now, but if we can pass by one of them, you can pass on the message. Otherwise, we make our way to Waterfall.”

Kakashi makes sure they’re not leaving anything behind, except the sock, then nods. The owner has already been paid, so he leaves swiftly through the window.

They’re not coming back to this little settlement, anyway.

Pausing just at the outskirts, listening to the sounds of nocturnal insects, Kakashi eyes the full moon. “Rin? Who _is_ Asura?"

* * *

Obito is still seething when he makes his way back to his hideout. He throws things in Kamui, breaks things that can be easily replaced-- like pens and inkpots and scrolls-- he wants to shred that woman’s neck with his nails and paint the crater’s bottom--

The crater. The kid.

He’d forgotten. Annoyed at himself, Obito sighs. He’ll have to track the kid down, now. Thirty with a pair of tantō, a pair of kaiken made for a housewife’s self-defense, even, makes him more than intrigued. Someone with this kind of strength might be good for Akatsuki. Maybe.

“Can you track him?” he throws back at Zetsu, distracted as he pulls out the things he’d thrown in his personal dimension.

Zetsu takes a moment to answer, and Obito almost turns to see what’s taking so long--

“He’s made his way to Lightning,” the White half answers uneasily, “The Beasts--”

“Someone who can dodge a Swordsman of the Mist is bound to be good at fighting them,” Obito tells them as he sorts out the shuriken from the kunai and other tools, “I just want to see if he’s going to be actually useful, I haven’t forgotten about the Beasts.”

Zetsu falls silent, and Obito rolls his eyes at how they exude uneasiness. It doesn’t matter. The Plan will go forward no matter what.

Obito loads up on his weapons, keeps his chain ready, and tries to keep moving.

He can’t stop, or he’ll truly go mad.

* * *

He’s fuming as he cleans and puts away his bloodied kunai. He hates, _hates_ , when he needs to hunt down information he can’t charm out of select people. And he’s still angry at himself that he forgot about tracking the kid from the crater itself, which would have made his life marginally easier.

It eases his temper enormously to lash out at these ignorant people, and he can certainly make it look as if this man had gotten on the bad side of a few bandits. Or in a fight. Or something, it doesn’t matter.

And these people thought they could _lie_ to him.

Well, fixing it up is quick, anyway. Obito cleans his hands and moves on.

Moves on.

He always does.

He leaves the settlement, not even a proper village, and scouts the surrounding area for marks. He doesn’t know where the boy is going, if he has a goal or is simply fleeing.

For now, his best bet is that the boy is fleeing Kiri, getting as far as he can from the bounty hunters.

Interestingly enough, the brat isn’t taking too much care in covering his tracks. There’s just enough movement that Obito can’t simply jump forward, a meandering that leaves him guessing where the boy will pass by. He _could_ wait for the boy in Kumo… but there is a chance he won’t come into the village, just skim the country. He’s not willing to lose this trail.

He finds it to be a good decision, because the trail meanders up to a cave steeped in bijuu chakra.

What is this? What would this bizarre kid want with a _bijuu_? Or, better said, a _jinchuuriki_?

Obito cautiously enters the cave, staying away from the center, where the residue is strongest, but even then it shortens his breath. There’s nothing special. Nothing, but the chakra. He grits his teeth. It’s making his eye water, and the heavy feeling only gets stronger the more he stays.

He leaves the cave stumbling, bracing himself on a rock wall and fighting down another bout of nausea. The light of the full moon doesn’t help, casting greyish hues all around him.

With a hiss, he warps into his dimension to gather himself, doubling over and slapping a hand over his mouth. It helps slightly, but he still has to stay there for a few minutes. Once he’s certain he’s not going to hurl his non-existent dinner, he straightens and leaves, taking care to stay away from the bijuu chakra.

It takes him a moment to find and follow the trail again, but he wants to find this brat. Maybe wipe out competition, if that’s what he is. He’s still unbalanced, and _sage_ , but he’s going to make this brat pay for leading him around on this kind of chase.

As he’s numbering how many kunai he’s willing to stick into someone else, he stumbles on _another_ crater. Obito grits his teeth, braces himself again, and looks inside. There are half melted kunai inside, sticking out at odd angles, all of them with a light coating of chakra. Some of it is bijuu chakra, _again_ , some of it not.

He wants to scream in frustration, but that wouldn’t help him, at all. This brat picked a fucking fight with a jinchuuriki. Obito is going to strangle him. Make perfectly roasted mince meat. Or just feed him to Zetsu, but that’s not nearly as satisfying.

A glint of polished metal draws his attention, and he picks his way into the crater. He finds a small staff, coated with a strange energy. It is barely bigger than his palm, the body painted with snowflakes and flowers, tipped with silver blades on both ends. Obito frowns at it. His first instinct is to stick it in his dimension, but he doesn’t want to lose sight of it. He’s never seen something like this before. He sticks it in his belt, making sure it won’t poke anything important.

The trail resumes a few meters away, and Obito follows it almost absentmindedly.

It is a pretty staff, but rather unwieldy for a weapon. It doesn’t have the ring that most kunai have for stability, barely any space for a hand to close it, and the second blade poses a danger of wounding the holder.

Obito shoves it out of his mind and follows the trail again. The boy will have answers.

* * *

By the time Obito catches up to a fresher trail, he’s tired, he’s annoyed, and he’s dirty. He’s crossed three countries in a week, plowed through snow, rainforest and mud, his clothes are stiff and terrible, and his mood has only worsened.

He’s going to wring this kid’s neck when he catches up to him.

“You should be making progress with the leaders.”

Obito pauses from where he’s been stomping on an insect, trying to picture someone annoying under his foot. For some reason, he can only picture a certain idiot. Tempting, but not the point at the moment. “I am,” he huffs back at Zetsu, turning to give them a glare, “Suna has chosen their next sacrifice, and I’ve already spread rumors. It’ll isolate it from other humans. I’ve set false scriptures in Kiri, and as soon as someone tries to use them, I’ll know.”

Zetsu frowns at him. “You’re wasting time here, all the same.”

“I’m going to either recruit this kid, or get rid of someone who could be a pain,” Obito snaps back, annoyed. Zetsu’s questioning is uncalled for, really, isn’t it obvious?

“Don’t forget your objective,” The Black half sneers, “The Beasts are all that matter.”

Obito twists his face, but Zetsu disappears into the ground before he can snap back. Good riddance.

He turns back to the trail, intent on reaching its end. He manages to cover just a bit more of distance before he stumbles on something.

Something, being a whole battalion of Iwa jounin armed to the teeth and clearly a hair’s breadth away from murdering everything on sight.

Normally, Obito would crack a couple heads together, branch another few, and Kamui a few more, but he’s so surprised to find so many nin-- _too close to the Graveyard and his hideout_ \-- that he freezes. The jounin aren’t so surprised, however.

“Is that backup?!” one of them snarls, turning a short blade in Obito’s direction.

He’s not going to be able to talk his way out of this, even with his chipper, idiot act. He’s tempted to try, regardless, but another one snarls and flings a volley of shuriken before he can say a word.

Oh well. Time to fall down and pretend to be a goner while these guys--

“Oops!”

\--he’s staring at a backside. Obito blinks, bewildered, and realizes that someone threw him over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes and was now running away from the jounin.

He wants to be angry that this person reached him before he realized it, but he’s just bemused, because someone pulled him from the line of fire and fled. Perhaps under the assumption that they’ve saved his life (which is ridiculous, he was perfectly in control).

Raising his head from a very shapely butt, he watches an angry battalion of Iwa jounin screaming obscenities in their direction and pursuing.

He doesn’t resist the urge to flip them off with both hands.

The resulting outrage makes his rescuer chuckle in amusement, and Obito turns his head to try to identify them.

There’s silver hair, a short white yukata, and ANBU leggings. A loosely-tied headband swinging with each jump turns around their neck, and he stares at the Konoha symbol crossed over with a jagged line, lightning cutting a leaf in two.

_Oh._


	3. when you dream of me

He only slows down once Obito has lost sight of the Iwa nin for half an hour, to then settle high in a sturdy tree with copious leaves to hide them from pursuit. Obito feels him bend some, scrambling to hold onto Kakashi’s waist as he’s shifted, and then he’s set down gently.

He takes a moment to observe, eye narrowing, grip tightening on black-clad forearms.

Kakashi looks… not exactly the same, but not completely changed. The ANBU uniform is the same as the one he was wearing when Obito last dropped by to “visit”, so is his mask and gloves. The yukata and pair of kaiken in their sheaths wrapped tightly around his waist are new. He has things concealed in the sleeves of the robe, but they don't seem to be any kind of weapon Obito would recognize by their shape alone.

His yukata is folded over his chest like a corpse's.

_“If you come across a… boy… in a white yukata, run. You’ll know what I mean when you see him.”_

_Really,_ he thinks, _really?_

“Unless you're about to attend your own funeral, that doesn't seem the proper way to tie it,” escapes his mouth before he can stop himself. Which he should be able to, as Madara had taught him better, for fuck's sake.

Kakashi’s visible eye crinkles, amused. “That's what I get for walking among the dead, I suppose.”

Obito frowns. He couldn't possibly know..? No, apparently he'd been folding the robe like that since before meeting with Obito, and he couldn't possibly be aware of his ex-teammate’s continued life then. He didn't know.

Right..?

“What _were_ you doing that you managed to irritate twenty Iwa nin, anyway?”

“Aah…” Kakashi shrugs, “I was passing by, actually. They were planning things, I think. I didn't like their faces,” he adds flippantly, “So I stole their maps and buried them in a riverbed, setting their traps off without getting caught!”

Obito… doesn't know what to do with this silver-haired _idiot_ who is now beaming with pride. Kakashi was reckless, but not this much.

He was also skilled, but not enough to dodge that many nin vying for his blood. Obito wants to ask how he's gotten like this, wants to call him a liar, but he also knows this will give him away.

“You did all that because you didn't like their faces?” he asks, bewildered.

“Yep,” the idiot answers brightly.

“So, did you save me because you liked mine?” Obito says dryly.

“I liked your _mask_ ,” Kakashi corrects, voice lilting with amusement, “It's quite a work of art, a spiral so smooth.”

Ah, right. Guruguru’s face.

“And since their twitchy fingers were my fault, I couldn't just let you become a shuriken cushion. I like your sense of humor, by the way, but don't antagonize pursuers again, they chase harder~”

Obito shakes his head slightly. “Right… and what were you doing _before_ that?” he asks dryly.

Kakashi hums, squinting at him and shifting his weight. His hair, usually held up by the headband left on his neck, droops around his head as messily as always. He brushes back only the right side of the bangs on his face.

Obito has the sudden urge to uncover Kakashi’s left eye and see it for himself. It's his eye, anyway. But he bites his lip. He’s already said things he shouldn't. If he pushes more, Kakashi might get suspicious.

Then again, Kakashi used to be a little rule following prick, too damn loyal to leave his village, and look where they are now. “Passing by,” he says lightly, brushing dirt from Obito’s shoulders, “I was going west, but, well. I don't mind a change of plans!”

He’s still holding onto Kakashi’s elbows, he realizes with a start. He releases them with an awkward shrug. “You wouldn't happen to know about someone who made a mess in Kiri?”

“Oooh?” Kakashi perks up, interested, “Is that why you're here? Chasing after me?”

“So you _did_ cause it,” he says dryly, “Whatever were you thinking, antagonizing one of the Seven Swordsmen?”

Kakashi chuckles, turning to walk down the side of the tree. “Just a bit of fun,” he breezily meanders between branches, Obito scrambling to follow him down, “Besides, there was no need for that man to pull such destructive techniques. I was just perched on his sword, really.”

Obito falters for a moment. “You... _perched_ on his sword? And you didn't think he'd be offended? Those Swordsmen have a lot of pride, touching their weapon is a personal offense!”

“That might explain why he was so angry,” the idiot muses, “Oh well. Are you here to get the bounty?”

“Wha-- no!” this idiot is beginning to _get on his nerves_ , and Obito is tempted to drown him in the river, “I wanted to see what _imbecile_ would get Kiri to set such a high bounty on their own heads, and you've only proved me right!” he’s going to get himself goddamn _killed_ , Obito can just see it. He'll get all fucking shinobi villages after his flippant ass and get skewered for irreverence.

Obito is not going to stand for this.

“So, what, are you going around doing _fun things_ just because?” his voice drips with bitter poison, as they switch from bark to dirt, and begin walking on horizontal ground. Obito follows Kakashi’s meandering path, as he looks to both sides before crossing a clearing. Absurd behaviour, Obito thinks sourly, he’s gone bonkers.

“Well, yes,” Kakashi throws a one eyed, amused look back at him, “Is there anything else to life?”

Obito stops. Just _stops_. Frozen in place. This… this _cannot_ be Kakashi. Not Kakashi Hatake, rule-follower, and mission-is-everything, and icy heart extraordinaire. Something is desperately wrong here. It’s not possible that someone can break and twist around their own personality so drastically.

“You okay?” a blue eye peers into his own through the hole in the mask, and Obito startles, stepping back. Kakashi is too close, bent just enough to peer up, “I thought I lost you for a moment, there.”

This is almost more bewildering-- Kakashi’s voice is soft. Concerned. His eye is droopy, eyebrow curled gently. Obito can’t see the rest of his face, but this is enough. Kakashi. _Worried_. Obito blinks at him and opens his mouth. “I’m fine.”

Kakashi studies him for a moment, but Guruguru’s mask is even tighter than the idiot’s cloth mask. He nods, slowly, then straightens. “So, if you’re not here for the bounty, and just wanted to take a look… what are you going to do now?”

That… is a good question, Obito realizes.

He’s found what he wanted. He’s found the one who made a mess of Kiri and picked a fight with too strong people. Picked fights with legendary ninja and a vessel.

What… what did he do now?

Kakashi blinks slowly. Tilts his head, considering. Obito… doesn’t want to take him out as competition. Recruiting him seems… dangerous. What if he figures out Obito is...well. Alive? What then? Would he run back to Minato? His missing nin status would indicate that he wouldn’t return. Would he try to kill Obito? ...doubtful, at least from what he’d acted like back in Konoha, but he wasn’t the same.

Would he help Obito? Or try to stop him from... _saving_...this world?

Kakashi is looking towards a tree, now. Distracted by his own thoughts, and Obito wants to uncover his left eye and stare inside his soul. Pull out the answers, one by one, until he’s satisfied. “Well,” Kakashi taps an index finger on his chin, distractedly moving to scratch at moss on the tree, “You look lonely.”

“What?”

“Lonely,” Kakashi repeats, turning a strange, distant stare to Obito’s direction. It feels like he’s staring past the mask. “Maybe bored. You should have some fun.”

Obito stares at him. Tries to find something that tells him Kakashi is making fun of him, but there is nothing. Only a distant stare and a strange, repetitive hand gesture that he doesn’t recognize. It’s not a signal to anyone else, just…

 _Psychosis_ , he remembers suddenly. _Schizophrenia_.

“And…” Obito coughs to get rid of some strange weight that settles in his gut, “What would you suggest?”

Kakashi’s eye angles slightly further out to Obito’s left, seeming to focus on something that’s not there. “I don’t have anything better to do,” he says airily.

Obito has a sudden _need_ to recruit Kakashi, even with the danger involved. To keep him where he can see this idiot. Because it’s obvious by now that if he lets Kakashi go off on his own, the jackass is going to get himself killed.

He stays silent.

Kakashi’s eye crinkles in a strangely distant smile. “Alright.”

He turns to leave. Somewhere west, apparently.

Obito doesn’t even realize his feet moved to follow until the clearing disappears behind them.

* * *

“There’s something you’re not telling me. Again.”

“There are a lot of things I’m not telling you,” Rin answers flippantly.

Kakashi raises his head to blink tiredly at the curled form on the other side of the fire. He’s asleep. “I can deal with most of them,” he pulls the lapels of the yukata closer together, “But this isn’t the same as the rest. He worries you.”

Rin grimaces.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

She sighs and falls back, floating horizontally and staring at the sky. “I’ve been doing that a lot,” she laments.

“He worries you. Why?”

“Doesn’t he worry _you_?” she returns, so low Kakashi almost misses it, “Do you really just…”

She doesn’t finish. He doesn’t answer. The conversations falls, is buried into the ground, and Kakashi throws sand and dirt into the little fire to put it out.

Covered with a black cape, the shape beckons him. Warmth is a certainty from the boy’s body.

He curls into himself on his side and closes his eyes, trying to sleep alone.

* * *

The trees have been getting shorter, wetter. There is more moss and grass is beginning to appear. Obito turns his head so he can look at the sky, and sees sparse light between leaves, where before there was only shadow. The more they go west, the less vegetation there will be.

Once there are no trees left, just rocks and maybe bushes, they will have made their way into Earth country. He should be able to scout information about the bijuu here, at least the ones that came from Iwa.

“Hmm,” Kakashi stops beside him, fiddling with a brightly colored rope, “It may be best for me to get a disguise.”

“You think?” Obito retorts, rolling his eyes, “After someone had the bright idea to antagonize Iwa nin…”

“What do you think about purple?” Kakashi goes on, “Maybe even make-up,” he muses.

“Exchanging that funeral robe would do wonders,” Obito throws caustically.

“An eyepatch to go with the purple hair, do you think?”

Obito turns sharply “You are _not_ getting purple hair!”

Kakashi blinks at him, as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Why not?”

“A disguise is made to be _discreet_ , you empty-headed ass,” he hisses furiously, “Purple will only call more attention!”

“Hmm,” the idiot turns back to staring in front of them, then adds airily, “Oh well. Purple is rather something you’d use.”

“I’d go for red myself, actually,” Obito has to resist the urge to facepalm. Kakashi just nods in agreement, his eye crinkling in amusement again.

Obito has no idea what to do with him. He doesn’t want to take Kakashi back to his base, but he’s sure that if he’s not watching him carefully, Kakashi will ultimately create too much chaos. He tried to leave the night before. Tried to walk away, and leave Kakashi alone to his madness. He’s always been too good at fighting to die himself, even when he’d needed Minato to save him.

He’d lost sight of Kakashi for five minutes, and could already feel his trepidation that Kakashi would get himself killed. Just a small distraction with his psychosis, and he’d be beheaded. Neck snapped. A blade through the heart, if his enemies were merciful. Spilled guts, if they weren’t. A long and painful death. Or maybe torture, to find out Konoha’s secrets. Kakashi had been in ANBU, he’d know a lot of secrets.

He’d returned to his place around the fire, silently, and finally his lungs stopped seizing as he’d caught sight of Kakashi’s back, silver hair streaked with the dirt he was laying on and chest gently moving.

Well. Obito’s plans need a lot of reconnaissance and patience. Accompanying Kakashi in his gallivanting shouldn’t hinder them. He can always tie Kakashi to a pole, or something, to keep him in one place while he has to deal with business elsewhere for a couple of hours.

“What even will be fun in Iwa?” Obito complains, “They’re all warmongering idiots, you can’t expect to find anything entertaining…”

“You,” Kakashi laughs at him, “Have no idea. Iwa is actually the most entertaining places right now!”

“You’re a Konoha rogue nin,” the jerk will always test his patience, “They will want to either hire you or burn you at a stake!”

“Exactly!”

“What do you have in that bleached cranium?!” Obito yelps, trying to follow as Kakashi abruptly changes directions, “Snake poop? That is not what entertainment _means!_ ”

Only after he finishes speaking, he feels it. Obito sucks in a startled breath, as he stares at the back of Kakashi’s head. Some ways in the direction the brainless boy is going, is the chakra signature of another jinchuuriki. If he’s not mistaken, one of the two from Iwa, even. Obito is going to _skin him alive_ if he picks a fight with a jinchuuriki. _Again_.

He tries to intercept his-- he tries to intercept _Kakashi_ , but it’s already too late. They’re too close to the Sacrifice, who’s wary and raring to trample them. Chakra fluctuating wildly, human and bijuu radiating anger and hate.

“Fight me,” Kakashi says brightly.

Obito dearly wants to stick a kunai in Kakashi where it truly _hurts_.


	4. [o star with royal beauty bright]

Minato can barely breathe, the teeth on the back of his mouth aching from grinding. His ears still ring with Kushina’s screams, and his shoulders keep twitching with paranoia. Kakashi leaving with that cryptic warning, with _Rin’s_ advice and half disjointed planning had set his instincts on overdrive. He's sent conflicting orders, changed locations, left behind half a dozen nin that would have accompanied them at the beginning, and still he cannot calm himself.

“Lord Fourth,” Minato has to restrain a violent start, which causes his limbs to lock up, tense. He turns to face the guard that, thankfully, ignores his jumpiness, “The seals are holding. Lady Kushina is about done, we should be able to return to the village soon.”

“Thank you,” he says with a wan smile. Not that he's not sincere, but he's still too tightly wound up to pass on his gratitude properly. Kakashi’s warning repeats like a broken record in his mind, and Minato finds himself scanning their surroundings every other moment, fingering his kunai.

Kushina and Naruto _must_ stay safe.

It's a good thing, however, because that means he sees it coming-- a deadly volley of senbon aimed at everyone standing, him, his guard, Lady Biwako and even Mikoto.

For all that the strange ninja tried, however, Kakashi’s warning had been thorough. Minato has stacked his deck-- so much that it might be considered overkill, but as twitchy as he is, he doesn't care.

The seals on the floor, inside, activate the moment the wound on his lip, that he has been worrying throughout the night, lets a drop of blood fall.

Kushina and Mikoto are safe inside the newly created thorn barrier. Lady Biwako brushes aside the thorns that try to engulf her, even as she nods at him in thanks for deflecting the senbon headed her way.

Minato wants to feel some sort of triumph at thwarting the attempt, some sort of relief that Kakashi wasn't lying, some sort of… good emotion.

He feels _murderous_. These _insects_ have dared trespass on _his territory_ , attack _his family_.

Minato prides himself on listening to anyone who has a word to say before doling out judgment, as a leader of a military village, he must be impartial, if still a dictator.

In this moment, he doesn't care. He doesn't care these _shit-eating-flies_ might have families, might be simply following orders or something equally alleviating.

He only cares that they are a threat to what is his.

Lady Biwako and his guard, bless them, don't even try to get in his way or hold him back, merely provide cover as Minato trounces the little vermin, flashing between two to crack their heads together, close to another to violently throw him against a boulder, leaving a vicious path until his fingers close around the throat of the last nin. It's faster than even he is used to moving, and vertigo tries to warp his vision. His rage is all encompassing, and his focus narrows down on the man in his grip.

Lady Biwako folds her hands in front of her robes, as his guard cautiously approach him, slowly taking out wire to tie the nin up. Her hard stare is on his hand, and he glances down, uninterestedly noting that the nin has been clawing his wrist bloody in desperation. Minato uses the blood that makes its merry way to his elbow, channels some chakra and seals bloom around the man’s throat, preventing him from trying to commit suicide or use his own chakra. It's a painful technique, that usually causes allergy on anyone moderately proficient with chakra.

On a ninja? Minato relaxes his face to prevent a deadly smile. On a ninja it will feel like hot iron for as long as the seals are active.

“Lord Fourth?”

“Take him to Shikaku,” he says softly. The noise in his head, a cacophony until that moment, has left behind a cold silence, “I want to know who knew about this and thought it a good idea to attack. I want to know if they wanted me or Lady Biwako dead, and I want to know if they wanted the Kyuubi. Or my son.”

All three bow, the shortest stepping forward and taking the man by the nape, wire crisscrossing his entire body.

With difficulty, hand and arm shaking from the stress of holding so tightly, Minato releases the man’s throat.

“Do tell my husband to come here,” Mikoto’s voice sounds from within the thorn barrier, sickly sweet.

She's just as pissed, Minato thinks elated. She is his new best friend.

* * *

With the help of his guards, transporting all of them with his seals is simple. In no time, they’re accommodated in his home, ANBU still in their positions.

Minato feels the anger festering. Who found out? Who told? Who attacked?

“How quaint,” Mikoto sips her bitter tea, eyes narrow and attentive, “There was enough secrecy to disappear with an unsealed Beast, and yet…”

“Indeed,” Minato focuses on her, tracking the ANBU on duty.

Mikoto adjusts the sleeves of her kimono, waiting. Minato carefully counts the special ops nin, frustrated when the count comes in the same. She tilts her head.

Minato grits his teeth. He'd changed the location for Kushina’s delivery, prepared everything on his own, and warned the others only when they'd been all on the way.

Who would have been able to know? Someone who could track him. Someone who--

“Look who it is!” the loving voice and a small gurgle makes his mind derail entirely. He turns, and is treated to the sight of Kushina slowly making her way over with Naruto gurgling in her arms.

The baby’s eyes are still slightly milky and unfocused, but he makes another squeal when Minato approaches him. Such a tiny thing. So tiny, and entrusted to Minato’s care. His hands are trembling as he reaches to brush the baby’s cheek. His son.

Kushina is laughing at him, but he couldn't care less. He presses a soft kiss to her cheek, feeling the wonder at seeing the baby first wail return with a vengeance.

Mikoto watches Kushina giggle at her gobsmacked husband from the table, and allows the corner of her mouth to quirk. She keeps count of the ANBU, however.

* * *

Naruto is a bright baby, who brings smiles to any who cross his way. He has already managed to stick his tiny fingers up the noses of the Third Hokage and Jiraiya, drooled on Fugaku’s best robes, bit little Itachi’s nose (thank goodness he hasn't grown teeth yet), and almost squished tiny Sasuke by rolling over him when they’d been laid side by side.

Kushina always howls with laughter when Sasuke makes the same wheezing squeak from then on, whenever he catches sight of Naruto.

Minato always hums happily when Naruto gurgles at him.

It doesn't soften the blow of the news that the man Minato had sent to be interrogated was found dead from poison.

Minato keeps his smiles and the cheerfulness with Kushina, his gentle nature and light heart with his village. Once he's alone with Mikoto, he finds himself carefully squeezing soft balls for hand tension. In lieu of a traitor's neck, they have to do.

Mikoto sits in his company, sipping tea with rigid poise, and Minato feels no envy. She's tense enough that one wrong move from anyone in their vicinity, and Minato is ready to flash out of her way.

“I have heard,” she sets her cup daintily on its saucer, “That the orphanages have had some trouble with the number of children they care for.”

Minato grunts, a spark of anger catching on a thread. Mikoto has always been marvelous at ferreting out information. She's not quite on par with Shikaku for the logic leaps, but she can find the loose threads, like a cat following a dancing string.

“Some have been sent off to live in apartments, alone and in small groups,” the cat dangles the string in front of his face, smug paws folded under its chin.

He hasn't received requests for funding or authorized such practices, Minato realizes. He delegates where he can and needs to, but he does make it a point to at least skim most changes in practices.

The soft stress ball makes a squeaky sound, and Mikoto smiles airily. “I did manage to see to it that the neighbours kept an eye on such little groups, much better when they have the beginnings of training when small.”

Minato holds back a snort, squeezing the stress ball again. Angrily, he hisses out a breath.

* * *

Like every sane ninja, Minato hates the scrubbed halls of the hospital. It’s a rather instinctive reaction, he knows, because no ninja appreciates the place, especially when coupled with memories of injuries or near-death moments.

Honestly, he’s only there because the ninja in the morgue called for him.

“Lord Fourth,” the mousy haired medic nods to the correct door, “Here.”

Minato tries to suck in a fortifying breath, but only succeeds in exhaling a volatile mix of anger and frustration. He follows the medic in, and there is another waiting for him. A woman in her thirties, brown-haired and sharp glasses.

“Lord Fourth,” she nods at him briskly, and it pleases him to see efficiency, “We analysed the poison, and it is a fairly common one. Quick acting, easy to find.”

Minato notes she leaves out specifics. He waits, blank-faced, and she nods again, snapping one glove over her hand to quickly open the corpse’s mouth and pull out his tongue.

“But I believe this is what will interest you.”

He closes in, focus sharpening as she pulls on the tongue to straighten it as much as possible and--

A seal. A fucking _seal_.

There is some sort of unholy glee growing in Minato’s chest, and his gaze slithers up to the medic. “Really?” he asks lowly.

The woman must sense he can work with it, because she pushes her glasses up and the corners of her mouth turn up. “Indeed, Lord Fourth. Are there any specific instructions you’d like us to follow?”

“Close the body in where only you have access to,” Minato straightens, even as he gives her a warning glare. “Speak of it to no one. I will work on it,” swiftly, he pulls out a roll of paper and paints his teleporting seal, “Leave this under the body at all times. And please only preserve the body, the rest I will do myself.”

She nods, and immediately covers the corpse and begins moving it to her office.

Minato makes a mental note to give her a raise.

* * *

When he returns home, Kushina is waiting for him, Naruto sleeping soundly on her lap.

He greets her with a loving smile and a scroll that brings a confused tilt to her lips, even as she opens it to see the seal carefully copied down.

“What’s this?” she asks. He can almost see the wheels turning in her head, as she automatically analyzes the shape in front of her, eyes carefully taking note of curves and hidden writing.

“It was on the survivor’s tongue,” he answers easily, smile widening.

The silence that descends on them is thick with anticipation, and Kushina gently rolls the scroll back up. She sets it to the side, cradling Naruto’s head with so much care that it leaves Minato breathless with love. “Have you told Mikoto?” her voice is very soft.

“Not yet,” Minato answers her easily, “I wanted to tell you first.”

Her smile is fox-like and filled with a promise of pain.

Minato really, _really_ loves this woman.

* * *

_He’s tired. The beacon still calls to him, but the glass figurine has become riddled with thorns, and his fingers bleed every time he touches it. Why?_

_He wants to sleep, but he can’t even approach the figurine anymore, and something in him throbs with pain at the notion._

_Maybe he shouldn’t have broken it so many times._


	5. im sorry for hoping

He’s not paid enough for this.

He’s not paid _period_. For this shit.

It wasn’t enough that Kakashi antagonized a Mist Swordsman, no, this time he decides it’s a good idea to annoy a _Sacrifice_.

_Who in their sane mind would think it a good idea to annoy a Sacrifice?_

Obito tries to keep his internal screaming to a minimum, if only to make sure he can still dodge fucking _lava_.

He also tries to keep in mind that Kakashi is _not_ in his sane mind, but it's hard when the crazy albino is laughing merrily as he puts out fires and cools pockets of lava with water techniques.

Obito himself can barely keep his feet from getting hot, and his dark robes already have scorch marks, and he's livid.

He's going to burn all of Kakashi’s pretty hair off.

“I ought to lather your face with this for that!” the Sacrifice shouts at Kakashi, and Obito would facepalm if he wasn’t so busy playing ‘the floor is lava’. Literally.

“I’m sorry!” Kakashi shouts back, laughing, and he doesn’t sound sorry. At all.

“You disrespectful brat!” the stout jinchuuriki returns, spewing more lava at them.

Obito just wants to grab Kakashi and hightail it out of there, but the cotton-headed idiot bends out of the way of his hands whenever Obito reaches for him.

“How’s your daddy?” Kakashi sing-songs and--

What?

The Sacrifice makes a low, furious sound--

“Because daddy had eleven children,” Kakashi dodges a plume of fire and “And the youngest wants to play!”

Why is he spewing nonsense, again?

The Sacrifice trips and Obito sees his chance, grabbing Kakashi in a chokehold-- he makes a strangled sound of protest-- and fleeing like the devil is on his heels(which...well).

The branches blur in his vision, and he ignores Kakashi’s nails biting into his arm, even lets a few leaves slap the idiot’s face.

Only when his lungs are burning does he stop, and braces himself against a tree to gasp for breath. Kakashi punches his arm and he lets go, to hear him cough in air. Deserved it. “Asshole,” Obito pants at him.

“Jerk,” Kakashi returns with a rough voice, and Obito looks over to see that his pale throat has a few bruises appearing already. And Obito almost feels guilty, but Kakashi turns on his back on the ground and laughs throatily, “That was fun.”

“That was _not_ fun,” is this idiot _suicidal_? Wait, no, antagonizing people stronger than him, _of course he is_ , “am I going to have to tie your hands? Or gag you? _Stop antagonizing these people!_ ”

Kakashi just laughs at him again. “Alright, alright… I won’t do it again,” and he turns to regard Obito with-- with…

What is that expression? It’s not concern, it’s not… it’s not the laughter from before, but Obito can see amusement and mischief in the corners of his eyes, but there’s something else there.

Something that makes the hairs on his skin stand up straight, make Obito want to right his spine and…

“Y-you better,” and _god_ , but please let his voice sound steadier to Kakashi than it sounds to his own ears, “I don’t want to keep saving your ass.”

The strange look fades from Kakashi’s eyes, and he blinks slowly. He opens his mouth as if to comment, but then his gaze flits to the side. He tilts his head, considers, then closes his eyes in something that passes the impression of a smile, but he probably didn’t even curve the corners of his mouth, the irritating bastard. “Alright,” he says.

At least he’s _apparently_ listening. Obito doesn’t want to develop a stress tic.

* * *

Rin returns smiling softly, and Kakashi looks up from the branches he’d been gathering.

“Good?” he tilts his head in curiosity.

“Very good,” she grins at him, “Minato and Kushina had their baby. Bright sunshine, and they called him Naruto.”

Kakashi hums and returns to gathering branches. “I can already tell what he’s going to obsess over.”

Rin laughs loudly, spinning in the air with delight, “He makes friends wherever he goes, you know! But the most important one was brought to him. It’s good.”

“Should I be worried about that?” and he sounds so carefree that it makes something ache in her. It’s not physical, because she’s not physical, but it still aches.

“No,” she tells him, gentleness in her voice, “It means a good balance. What about you? Have you antagonised him again?” she teases.

“Have not,” Kakashi scoffs, turning back to his search for dry wood, then mutters sullenly “Doesn’t make a difference, anyway…”

“Kakashi,” she softens, resting her forehead between his shoulder blades, “You make a difference, don’t doubt that.”

The silence that falls over them is thin as a summer breeze, gentle as cotton.

“Say,” she murmurs, because… well, she’s curious, “What do you remember?”

He stalls for a moment, gathered wood in one hand, and pulls the edge of the yukata with the other. He’s looking at the serpentine ink on his chest, she knows. “Very little,” he sighs, tracing one line, “Disconcerting, but livable. I have you.”

She nods.

(Obito treads back to the little place they’re making their so called camp.

Thinking. Because he followed Kakashi out of some deep-seated paranoia that he’d go after another Sacrifice, and instead...

Instead he’d listened on a one-sided conversation. He hadn’t seen Kakashi’s face throughout, but the note of affection was there. Deep-seated. ‘ _I have you_ ,’ he’d said.

A hallucination, he thinks.

Now if only he could make the lump in his throat disappear.)

* * *

Obito feels the silence pressing in on him as he watches Kakashi sleep. Is this his fault? But how? Kakashi is sick, and he...

Maybe Obito from before would know what to do. Maybe that Obito would be able to help, but he hasn’t been that Obito in a long, long while. He’s not sure if he can be that Obito again. He’s not sure he even _wants_ to. (That was the helpless, _powerless_ , Obito. The weak, the always late, the failure. He doesn’t want to be that again.)

He breathes out a shaky sigh as Kakashi wakes slowly, blinking tired eyes open and yawning.

( _I_ _have you_ , he heard Kakashi say fondly. His heart twists.)

 _Create an objective._ Help Kakashi. Restore his sanity, or at least keep him out of trouble.

 _Identify the obstacle_. The illness. Psychosis. Lunacy.

 _Define a method._ Treatment…?

He has to know more about what the hell was going on, first.

Kakashi’s eyes crinkles at him, and he can almost see a curve beneath the cloth mask. Obito stares back. What can he say? ‘I heard you yesterday’? ‘You’re bonkers’? ‘Who were you talking to’?

Obito focuses on the red eye, on _his_ eye.

“Where are the _tomoe_?” he blurts, ice slipping through his veins.

“What?” as the frown covers the crinkles, Kakashi sits up, disheveled and leaf-full hair sliding back into place and hiding what was _supposed_ to be a _sharingan_.

He can’t blink as he scrambles and almost teleports to Kakashi’s side, taking a handful of silver hair and pulling it away from his face. He ignores Kakashi’s yelp, ignores that he takes a bruising grip on his wrist, pulling him by the hair so he can inspect the eye as close as he wants.

It’s red, and clear. There are no _tomoe_ , no pinwheel or kaleidoscope, just red. Bright, vivid red, like Obito’s fury.

“What did you do to it?!” he hisses.

“Nothing!” Kakashi yelps, free hand over the tight grip of his hair, “It’s been like this for months!”

Try as he might, Obito can detect no lie from that. He stares furiously into both eyes, one light blue, the other clear red, and Kakashi is just confused and maybe alarmed.

Deep breath. “That was supposed to be a _sharingan_. An Uchiha Copy-Cat eye.”

Kakashi stares at him for a long moment. He waits. “It still works like one,” he admits lowly, “I don’t know why it doesn’t _look_ like one.”

That’s… a non-answer, but he isn’t lying. Kakashi isn’t lying, but no Uchiha eye has ever been purely red. There’s always been black markings on the characteristic eye.

He relaxes his hands slowly. Kakashi ducks out of his grip and steps back, pats his hair back down before massaging his bruised wrist-- matching his throat-- and Obito refuses to feel guilty.

“We’re going to Suna.”

* * *

Kakashi remains wary of him, and with good reason. He’s not gentle, and he basically drags the albino south with him, not letting him out of his sight for a second. He debates asking Nagato to help with the Copy-Cat eye research, but decides not to. He’s supposed to be Madara, who had centuries to research it.

Who had another kind of eyes entirely.

He presses his lips together to try to keep his frustration at bay. Kakashi’s isn’t that kind of eye.

Besides, he’d have to leave Kakashi unsupervised for too big a stretch of time. He’s not willing to do that.

It takes them too long, even with Obito pulling them forward to speed up the journey-- he doesn’t want Kakashi to know about his peculiar power-- there’s too long spent in the desert, with sand making its way into places it was never supposed to go.

The entire journey is silent, filled only with his insomniac drive and Kakashi's confused glares.

His skin itches. His lip itches where he bit it.

They reach the walls of Suna during the night. Obito drops a couple of guards from a distance before dragging Kakashi in after him, ducking into the shadows of buildings.

Amusingly enough, neither of them are particularly subtle-- Kakashi with his bone white yukata and Obito with his tar black cloak-- stand out against the soft beiges and browns of the sand encrusted village, but they manage to pass undisturbed.

Obito sits Kakashi down in a children’s playground and gives him a stern warning to _stay put_ and stay _out of trouble_ , before leaving for the hospital buildings to find their medical research. Suna, with its rather isolated geography, has had to advance their research on insanity and all manner of mind illness. Mostly, they research those caused by prolonged lack of human contact, but it will be at least a foot into those sorts of illnesses if Obito can’t find the exact one that ails his-- that ails Kakashi.

He rifles through papers and more papers, dictionaries and case studies, raises his mask and wipes the sweat on his brow, because he’s _frantic_.

_Kakashi can’t be sick._

His eye catches something and Obito stops. Turns back a few pages and searches for the words--

_“...seeing something that is not there, change in personality, indifference to important situations…”_

Obito scans the article they come from, a foreboding feeling sliding down his spine and scratching at his shoulders as he reads more and more.

 _Why_ , he thinks, desolate, _why?_

Quietly, he takes the research on psychosis and stores it in his dimension, making his way back.

He’ll deal with it. He always does.

* * *

  _He has jagged edges, and he doesn’t know why. It stalks him grief stricken, but distant._

_He has a path, and he will follow it. Does it realize that it is wounded?_


	6. you never wake again

_The cracks in the figurine are filled with poisonous belladonna._

_His soul hurts._

* * *

Kakashi doesn’t know who this companion of his is, really. He hadn’t lied, the boy’s mask really is interesting. But the boy-- man-- teenager, maybe?-- is interesting himself. His clothes are dark, as is his hair, even though it’s usually hidden inside the hood. His mask is leached of color-- of life-- and yet he’s always moving.

He hasn’t introduced himself, either, and Kakashi finds that hilarious. It’s like he’s forgotten that Kakashi doesn’t know what to call him. It’s also a miracle that Kakashi _hasn’t_ needed to call his companion by name, although that might be because he seems singularly attuned to when Kakashi is speaking to him. He’s attuned to all of Kakashi, actually, not just his conversation. It’s interesting how he turns when spoken to, how he shifts when Kakashi shifts and how he’s always a counterpoint.

Kakashi wonders who was missing that he filled the space left behind for his companion.

To be very honest, Kakashi is interested in the way that the teenager treats him like glass. Not in the moments where he had been angry, but in several others, and in the way he speaks. Like Kakashi is fragile, which is laughable.

Kakashi is not glass.

In truth, he has been enjoying peace. Moments of stillness and tranquility, even if his travelling companion tends to be a bit pushy or distant.

And the fights, they’ve all been an easy pastime. A flurry of activity to keep boredom away. He’s never been in danger, not with Rin watching his back. She has been like a second pair of eyes on the back of his head since the beginning of this adventure. The fights have almost become too easy, he supposes.

Rin giggles.

“Are you an angel?”

Kakashi blinks, refocusing on the world around him. There’s a child standing in front of him, keeping his distance and looking hesitant. The kid is so small, that he seems like a toddler at first glance. “What?” he asks, bewildered.

“I saw a picture in one of uncle’s books,” the kid tightens his clasped hands, “He said that angels are good, and protect, and grant wishes. Are you one?”

The almost perfect diction makes the hair on the back of Kakashi’s neck stand on end. “Were you looking for one?” He tilts his head to the side, studying the little boy. The kid’s clothes mark him a native of Suna, and the red hair seems to have been cut at home by an amateur. “What would I be able to help you with?” the curiosity bubbles over, as Rin hasn’t stopped grinning to the side.

The kid bites his lip, and Kakashi has the feeling that he’s trying to decide what he wants the most. “Can you help me make a friend?” he peers up shyly.

Rin giggles again. Kakashi has the feeling he’s being victim to a practical joke, but. It’s not a cruel one, he knows. “I’m not very good at that,” he answers slowly. The kid’s crestfallen expression, however… “I could be your friend?” he offers feebly.

The way the kid beams seems to make it worthwhile.

* * *

Obito returns to find neither complete chaos, which he almost expected, or Kakashi missing, which he expected more. Kakashi is where he left him, actually, but there’s someone else. A child.

A quiet child, with an expression of puzzled contentment as Kakashi gently pushes him on the swings. Obito’s heart stutters in his chest, and he comes to bewildered stop. He’s far enough that he can’t hear what Kakashi is saying, but the cadence seems to be story-telling. And… there’s something about his movements that seems strange.

A placement of his feet, a position of an elbow, but Kakashi seems more… _demure_ in how he’s moving. Pushing the swing gently, even as he makes different voices for a dialogue, and the kid is basking in the attention.

Obito swallows and squares his shoulders. He moves closer, and some things suddenly become clear.

One, the kid is familiar, and not in a good way. Two, the kid is holding a small dog plushy. Three, Kakashi has his mask down.

They notice his approach, and Kakashi breaks off his story to smile at him. “Oh, you’re back!”

Obito can feel the hair on his body stand on end and suppresses a shiver. “Yeah,” he says feebly, trying to tamp down on the sense of _wrong_ exuding from Kakashi. Something is off-kilter. It doesn’t feel like he’s talking to Kakashi at all. “Who’s… who’s your friend?”

“This little guy?” the fond smile that that curls Kakashi’s mouth is foreign, wide and his eyes don’t close, “his name is Gaara. He wanted to know how to make a friend!”

Obito can’t help but stare as the kid-- Gaara-- blushes lightly with a bashful, tiny smile. At first he wonders what would a child his age be doing awake at this hour, and wandering on the streets no less, but then he realizes the mark of insomnia around the kid’s eyes. A horrible realization crawls its way around his brain.

Kakashi had managed to find the one person in Suna that they weren’t supposed to interact with, and worse, made _friends_. He’d managed to find the Sacrifice of the Sand Village, and made him _happy_. Obito isn’t sure if he’s more weirded out by Kakashi’s non-Kakashiness, or angry that all this is a possible disruption to his plans.

Sacrifices are supposed to be isolated, distant from their villages, easier to be lured away.

“Gaara, what do you think?” Kakashi slides his hands under the child’s armpits, picking him up and effortlessly settling him against his hip, cocked strangely to the side. Compensating for more weight than Gaara only.

“He seems okay,” the kid offered quietly, peering up at Obito, “Who are you?”

Obito looks at him for a few moments, bewildered. Kakashi still exudes that wrong even as he waits patiently, the kid stares at him, and Obito wants to hate him. Wants to hate such a tiny face, justify what he’s done-- rumors, he’d told Zetsu, this loneliness and the way Gaara approached Kakashi without fear, he’s caused this-- but he can’t. Not with such a curious and open expression, not with the faint innocence that lingers in the child.

Kakashi tilts his head at him, hums a question.

Obito swallows, staring at the kid. “Madara,” he hears his voice say distantly, “My name is Madara.”

“Nice to meet you, Madara-san!”

* * *

Obito has managed to convince Kakashi into at least moving somewhere not quite as public as a children’s playground, but made no head way in regards to letting go of Gaara.

He’s still wracking his head for arguments that Kakashi can’t rebuke-- “We need to leave,” he hissed, “I don’t have anything pressing to do,” he answered breezily-- when Gaara erupts into giggles. He turns, already dreading what other thing Kakashi has done--

“Are you mocking me!” Kakashi fake gasps at the kid, “I am a very strong ninja, you should not be mocking me,” he lectures, but the corner of his mouth is curled up.

“I believe you!” Gaara giggles and squirms in Kakashi’s arms, “But you have a plushy!”

“It is a very important plushy,” he says fake(?) seriously, “See this face? It’s called _henohenomoheji_.”

“Because of the letters, right?” Gaara blinks back up, “Uncle was teaching me how to read them.”

“Very good,” Kakashi croons. Obito is again hit by the wrongness of it, by how Kakashi is acting so not like himself. Still, it’s familiar. Familiar in a bad way. “You’re so smart, Gaara-chan. Do you already know how to count?”

“Yes!” the child beams, becoming more and more open the longer Obito and Kakashi stay, and that is not good. Obito is almost back to thinking of ways to get Kakashi to _let go_ of the kid-- “Uncle taught me that, too, Rin-san!”

Ice.

Obito stills. Kakashi and Gaara go on talking merrily, the kid proudly displaying what little knowledge he has already amassed of the world, but Obito finds his mind blank. Rin. _Rin_.

The fury that tears its way from his lungs to his throat is not entirely unexpected, no. The way that Kakashi turns easily, body posture-- voice-- _knowing_ gaze--

“What are you doing?”

The fury is walled inside ice, and Obito stares at--

“Gaara-chan wants some sweets. You know where to get some, right?”

At--

It can’t be, right?

“Yeah,” his voice answers as if from a distance, “There should be a couple of places around here with some.”

“Rin-san,” Gaara calls again, “You are going away, right?”

“Now whatever gave you that idea?” The blue eye lingers on Obito for a moment before turning to the child.

“I heard Madara-san. Is it important?”

Obito blinks at the kid, still reeling. Pale lips curve into a sweet, sweet smile that looks all wrong in that mouth.

“A bit, yes. But we can play more, if you want.”

“It’s alright,” Gaara nods seriously, “I know that adults have important things to do and I shouldn’t bother them. You should finish the important thing.”

Obito stares at the kid, feeling the bottom of his stomach twist. Something about this is wrong. Something about a child knowing that adults will pass him over for--

“Oh, Gaara-chan,” The white yukata will probably get dirty in no time, but still sand comes up as knees settle on the ground, “You are very important, you know? Don’t let anyone make you think you’re not. We like you, sweet child. And remember, if your mama gives you any grief, just remind her of what we told you, okay?”

The child smiles at them. “I will! Will you come back, Rin-san?”

The sweet, sweet smile returns to the wrong lips. “Of course we will. Take care of yourself, alright?” A kiss is pressed to the kid’s forehead, before Obito’s hand is grabbed and he’s tugged away.

He can’t think. This is the sort of thing that is impossible. He should be furious. Vengeful. Something.

Silver hair bobs gently as that blue eye focuses back on him, the sweet smile tilting into amusement. “You know.”

“What?” he squeaks, and his face can’t seem to decide itself on heating up or freezing from panic.

“That sort of anger is bad for your heart. You’ll have a heart attack before you’re halfway through your life,” A wink, a giggle, his hand is released. Distance--

Kakashi is walking away from him now.

Obito takes shallow breaths and tries to think through the cotton balled up in his head.

“What are you waiting for?” he looks up and Kakashi’s mask is back up over his face. Kakashi stares at him, eye crinkled in exasperation, “Come on.”

Obito follows him, fists tight to stop the shaking.

* * *

_“You are a disgrace, boy. What sort of reputation do you think you will garner for our clan? Do you think this sort of mediocre performance is acceptable? We are the greatest clan in this village. We must always strive for greatness, and here you are, squandering it. No, it seems like you would have been better off as a civ--”_

_“Uchiha-sama?”_

_“...Namikaze. This is clan restricted land.”_

_“Do forgive us, Uchiha-sama. But we have training today. I need my student.”_

_“Very well. Take your brats out of my district.”_

_"Appreciated."_

_“Uchiha-sama?”_

_“...your team is leaving without you, girl.”_

_“It’s alright, it won’t be long. I just wanted you to know. That sort of anger is bad for your heart. You’ll have a heart attack before you’re halfway through your life. Take care!”_

_“...”_


	7. just close your eyes

“Is that your name? Rin?”

Obito spends a few hours breathing silently, hours where Kakashi leads them out of Suna and somewhat north, just enough for plants to begin appear, short, stubby things that actually can’t be called plants, so shriveled they are. In the middle of all this beige, Kakashi’s white yukata and black leggings still stand out.

He can’t react in anger, Obito realizes. It will be counterproductive. Kakashi doesn’t know it’s him, not yet, he hasn’t taken off his mask or done anything characteristically ‘Obito’ yet. He can’t rush this.

Why _would_ Kakashi even be using Rin’s name? Some sort of guilt, or bizarre form of atonement? Some sort of trying to keep Rin alive, by living as her? What kind of twisted logic is that, anyway? Obito wrinkles his nose, and forcibly relaxes his shoulders. Kakashi doesn’t know it’s him, a stranger shouldn’t know about people long dead and gone, and wondering why he’s using a name that isn’t his is a sign of prior knowledge. He can… what can Obito do? Would a stranger even realise that Kakashi was acting differently? God, this confused him to an extent he had almost forgotten.

This was all Kakashi’s fault.

“I guess,” the albino answers carelessly.

“You guess?” Obito tries not to let the disapproval bleed too clearly into his voice, but it’s already a lost cause, “Is it your name or not?”

Kakashi hums in front of him, actually thoughtful for the first time Obito can recall since the beginning of their ridiculous partnership, staring almost fixedly at a withered cactus. “I suppose it would be easier,” he muses, eyebrows raising in amusement, “Yes, I suppose so. It’s my name, yes.”

“Rin,” Obito tests it in relation to Kakashi. Strangely enough, something about the combination seems to fit, “Rin.”

“Yes?” Kakashi answers lightly.

“Did you know Gaara?” Obito shakes his head to drive out superfluous thoughts, “Before, I mean.”

Kakashi eyes him sharply for a moment, leaving Obito wondering at what he’d said wrong. “No,” he allows, eye sliding over Obito’s shoulder to the horizon, “But I’d heard _of_ him. Kazekage’s kid.”

“Is that why you humored him?”

“No,” Kakashi snorted, “He’s a cute kid. He just wanted a friend, so… I tried to oblige. Not sure how that worked out, though.”

“Huh,” and there’s nothing else he could say to that, really. Desperately, he casts around his mind for a subject that is neither revealing, nor completely useless-- “Did you know a lot of kids?”

“Not really, no,” Kakashi looks through his sleeves, and Obito is distantly fascinated by how he pulls out colored cords and begins braiding them into a thick rope, “I was pretty isolated as a kid, and never actually got close to any once I grew older.”

Something about the words rubs him the wrong way, but Obito can’t pinpoint what. He sets it aside. “You seemed to be doing pretty well with Gaara.”

Kakashi throws him a look, and if Obito didn’t know better, he’d say he’s being laughed at. He knows better. He thinks. “I guess I was.”

Feeling put out, Obito pulls at his cloak and crosses his arms, frowning at the ground.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Huh?” he looks up, and Kakashi is finishing a braid of purple, brown and white rope.

“Your favorite color,” Kakashi repeats patiently.

“Red,” Obito answers absently. Kakashi’s fingertips slide over the purple cord, plucking loose fibers to be carefully trimmed away.

“Don’t lie,” is the answer in the same tone. Obito startles, eyes flying up and meeting Kakashi’s. It’s the first time Kakashi brushed his hair away from his red eye, and it’s unnerving to be the focus of the mismatched pair. Heavy focus, slightly chiding, and Obito’s mouth snaps shut over the barely formed denial.

* * *

“I want to make clear,” Kakashi raises his head and peers at Rin from where she stands haughtily over his companion, “That none of this is my fault.”

“I get the impression you’ll be blaming me, then,” he mutters absently, ignoring the fuss that… _Madara_ begins to raise.

“You know me so well,” she grins at him, unapologetic, “I’m not insisting you make a rope barrier for him.”

Kakashi huffs.

“You could leave it well enough alone,” she continues, flicking Madara’s ear just to watch him absently scratch it, “I mean, are you really going to ...defend him?”

“Yes,” he rolls his eyes, “and I know what that responsibility entails, thank you.”

She eyes him darkly, and for a moment Kakashi wonders if she’s angry at him. She flings herself closer to him, staring down into his eyes. “Kakashi, I love you, but sometimes you’re dumber than a door.”

“I take offense to that.”

Madara is still ranting to their side. Kakashi lets him so he can blow off steam.

* * *

 Another night. Kakashi curls around himself, alone, on the other side of the little fire they drudged up. Obito is only thankful it’s not outright icy cold.

He can’t sleep. Instead, he… tries not to brood, but ends up doing so. “Pretty isolated as a kid”, huh.

His own damn fault, Obito scowls to himself. Never allowing himself to come close enough to form friendships. Never allowing anyone _else_ to come close enough.

_Isolated as a kid._

There’s something ugly in his chest. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to analyze or dissect it.

Doesn’t want to allow himself to think of everything that _did_ happen that Kakashi negated with a few negligent words.

All the gifts, and words, and time.

All the unspoken thoughts.

Obito shifts his mask sideways, rubbing his eyes. He’s going to spend the night wide-eyed, he knows. He can only hope it won’t kill him tomorrow.

Kakashi exhales sharply. Had he woken? He’d seemed to sleep so very deeply before. Obito pulls his mask back, just in case, and waits. Kakashi doesn’t turn to face him. Instead, he twitches almost violently.

It takes a moment of bewildered observation before Obito realizes that Kakashi is _dreaming_.

…is he really so secure in Obito’s presence that he allows himself to fall so deeply asleep?

The jerking arms worry him, but he’s not getting close to Kakashi. Especially when he seems so high-strung. Even so, Kakashi curls into himself, slurred, indistinguishable words sounding out.

On one hand, Obito doesn’t care about whatever Kakashi is dreaming. It’s not important.

On the other…

He stuffs some chakra in his ears so he can listen without getting closer, but it’s moot.

The only things he hears is a cracked “ _give it back_ ” before Kakashi jerks awake and sits up, out of breath. Obito watches him gasp, fingers shaking as he runs a hand through dishevelled hair. Watches him pat the dirt off his yukata.

“That bad?” Obito asks disinterestedly.

Kakashi’s shoulders tense, but he doesn’t react more than that. He hums.

He hesitates. “Someone… told me once that talking it out helps.”

The blank stare turned on him makes him shrug. He offered, if Kakashi wants it, it’s on the table. It would be a bit of insight knowing what he’s dreamed, but Obito isn’t going to push him.

He can always use _genjutsu_ or something later.

“Someone stole my peach.”

What.

“What?”

“In my dream,” and there’s that insufferable eye smile that’s beginning to get on his nerves, “I had a red peach. Someone stole it.”

The jackass is _lying to his face_.

_Obito is going to eviscerate him._

* * *

They leave the desert and enter a colder environment, trees thickening around them quickly and rising up to curve around their heads. They’re not as thick or tall as the trees around Konoha, but they are enough to be called a forest. Too sparse for any Fire native to say so, however. Obito looks at the leaves, and the moss, and tries to organize his thoughts. He had to take a half an hour walk around their little camp before they left just to calm down, and once rationality had set back in, he’d realized that _of course_ Kakashi was going to lie.

Kakashi is mad, that he knows for certain now. Obito is just not sure if he realizes he’s taken on someone else’s identity, but he’s hardly going to enlighten the idiot about it. Madness is not a subject to be treated lightly. And lying was part of madness, right?

…he doesn't have much ground to complain about Kakashi taking on someone else's identity, anyway. Obito is--

“Your cloak is ripped.”

\--derailed. “Huh?” Obito looks down, and the tears in the fabric become apparent as he raises his arms and twists his body to look, light underpants becoming apparent, “I should get a new one, then…” He’d need to go back to the Graveyard. To look into his stash of clothes, left behind by Madara.

“Oh please,” Obito looks up, just in time to watch Kakashi impatiently pull down his mask, “That’s just squandering. Come here!”

Again, those movements that don’t fit with Kakashi’s personality. Entirely out of the left field, and everything together makes Obito’s eyes water. He automatically answers the call, stepping close. She-- _He_ \-- will do...what?

More than two years ago, this would be commonplace. This would be Rin-- the real one-- fixing his wounds, sharing her food, sticking a bandage on his nose, or even just flicking his ear. Not. This delusional Kakashi. This delusional Kakashi, who seems to have developed tics that Obito barely even remembers from Rin’s younger years.

(Was Kakashi watching her this closely, then? Had he been returning her gaze?)

“Now stay still,” Kakashi’s pale lips bend around the words even as Obito feels Rin’s soft touch along his clothes.

“What are you doing?” Obito asks helplessly.

“Fixing it,” Kakashi-- Rin-- _Kakashi_ \-- pulls out a tiny sewing kit from his sleeve and begins deftly closing the biggest tear on the fabric, “No use wasting money that can be used for better things, Madara-san.”

The name makes Obito jolt, he’s pricked by the needle and hisses, shying away. He receives a scolding glance for it. “I hadn’t thought of buying a new one, _Rin-san_ ,” he returns petulantly.

“Oh?” the waspish tone unnerves him “I suppose you just have _spares_ lying around then?” and for some reason, Obito feels like it’s not about _clothes_.

He grits his teeth and doesn’t answer. If Kakashi is going to _antagonize_ him with _Rin’s_ demeanor-- well. Obito will need to make sure Kakashi will live to regret it, no?

(Kakashi had to have been watching her closely, to be able to imitate even her rarely roused temper.)

* * *

_He’s always been good at lying to himself._

_He sits back, alone in the darkness, and tries not to retch the glass he’s swallowed._

_The stench of rotting plums makes his eyes water._


End file.
